Walking in the Air
by Olivia Doyle
Summary: There was a story that everyone missed, writing history. A woman, loved and hated by many. An Istar that wasn't really an Istar at all. A secret, kept by generations of highborn elves. And above all, a love that never really was meant to be. Slightly AU.
1. A Walk to Remember

A/N: So here it is, the experiment to see how well people will take someone screwing around with precious Silmarillion information. This is pretty AU with the history, although I've tried to stay with the books as much as possible with a little movie dashed in here and there. So try to enjoy and don't take stuff _too _seriously. Also, any help if I spell stuff wrong or put something in the wrong order, please do tell me, LOTR is kind of a new fandom for me.

-Thanks, Olivia

Disclaimer: I own Aine. That's it.

* * *

Boromir stared out at the sky sadly. It had been less than twenty-four hours since his... since _their_ friend, Gandalf the Grey and Oh-so-truly-Wise, had been killed by the great Balrog of Mordor. They had fled quickly, with no time even for grieving-- after all, in these mountains, with that... that _thing _around Frodo's neck, who knew what could be behind them, waiting for them to slow down just a little so that they may strike.

He shuddered. Gandalf had been their security blanket; with his presence came the knowledge that they stood more than a fair chance. Aragorn was a king and a fine warrior, as were the elf, the dwarf, and himself, but what good were swords and shields against the staff and cursed words of Saruman?

There was a rustle in the trees, and Boromir stood up like a shot, sword in hand. He whipped his head around, muscles tense as the list of lethal creatures that frequented these parts ran through his head. He was mildly surprised to see Legolas up as well, but he was thankful for the help, just in case whatever it was turned out more than he could handle.

There was another rustle, this time a little bit closer, and the elf placed an arrow on his bowstring.

"I would not kill me if I were you, Thranduilion," a stern voice said from the dark, and the elf almost dropped his arrow.

"Who are you? How do you know my name? Show yourself!" he said, and Boromir was surprised at the genuine anger in his voice. Legolas had been relatively mild-tempered throughout the journey, and to see him so riled up was rare and did not bode well for whatever was out there.

"_Do_ stop the theatrics, you'll give me a headache, and it's barely even _midnight_. Would you mind lowering your sword, Son of Gondor, I would not like to miss an arrow through my side only to risk impalement."

Boromir did as she said (for he had deduced, by her lightness and pitch of voice, that_ it_ was, in fact, a _she_), with Legolas complying soon after.

"There. Thank you," she said, and with that, stepped out into the flickering light.

She was an interesting looking woman, to say the least, with black hair that looked as if it had just been washed and deep, scholarly brown eyes that he could tell were made for disapproving looks. She had a rather heavy-looking pack on her back, and despite a rather obvious strength, she looked tired and haggard.

"I need to see Strider," she said clearly, and Legolas shook his head vehemently.

"We don't know who you are, why should we trust you? I will not awake Strider with such a matter as a wayward girl, not so soon after Gandalf's death," he said, directing the last sentence more to Boromir than to her, but it seemed that she heard it anyway. She turned pale as a ghost and staggered back, and Boromir's worn face became increasingly concerned.

"Gandalf... dead?" she finally sputtered out after some moments, and Legolas nodded slowly, obviously wondering about the wisdom of his statement. She let out a great and terrible cry that pierced Boromir's heart, and he bit his lip, conflicted. Should he go to help the woman, despite not knowing where she came from or who she worked for?

"By the Valar, what is going.... Aine? Aine, is that you? By the Valar, we all thought you were dead!" Boromir flipped his head back to see the ranger stride up quickly and embrace the woman before him tightly.

He was still thoroughly and utterly confused, but at least he knew now that that she was on their side.

"Is it true? Is he really dead, Estel?" she asked, and his smile dropped off his face. He attempted to avert his eyes, but she grasped his chin and firmly but gently pushed it until his eyes were level with hers.

"He fell in the mines of Moria defending us against a Balrog of Morgoth. He died a brave, heroic death, Aine, and we all mourn his loss greatly," Aragorn said softly, and she began to cry into the ranger's shoulder.

Legolas looked appropriately guilty as he stared at the heaving back of the woman before them, and Aragorn sighed.

"Come, Aine. We have much to talk about, and so little time," he said soothingly, rubbing her back softly as he nodded to the two men (well, males- Boromir wasn't really sure if the elf counted as a man) to go back to what they were doing.

Boromir watched the strange couple walk away, solid and strong-seeming even in their grief, and Legolas shook his head.

"Sleep, Boromir- I will take the rest of the watch this night," the elf said, looking any where but at him, and Boromir complied without protest, laying down and staring back up at the stars.

_'Gandalf...' _he thought to himself. _'Why did you leave us when we needed you the most?"_


	2. Gone In 60 Seconds

A/N: Ok, so I know I messed with the timeline just a little-- I just elongated the healing of Frodo's wounds after the fall of Gandalf, nothing _extremely _major. Any purists should probably run away right now though, honestly, because I will definitely mess with stuff a lot; I tend to prefer I-Never-thought-about-it-that-way with a splash of WTF compared to straight canon fics, but do feel free, again, to point out any mistakes, and as long as you do so in a friendly manner, I will give you my reasoning.

Thanks,

Oh-Livvie-A

Disclaimer: Oh the things I could buy, If I owned Lord of the Riiiiiiiings.

* * *

"Oh, get off of your high horse, will you? I'm only making _breakfast_, not smoke signals; paranoid elf!"

The sharp, hushed whisper of a woman woke Boromir up with a start, and he sat up in his bedroll, eyes quickly open and searching for the source of the noise.

There, over by the fire; the woman from last night was stirring a pan complacently as Legolas questioned her. Boromir stood up and walked over, and she grinned up at him.

"Good morning, Boromir, son of Denethor. I was wondering when you would get up," she said, smiling even wider as she continued stirring, completely oblivious to the absolute turmoil that had suddenly boiled up inside of him; he suddenly understood the elf's unexpected anger the night before. How... how did she know who he was? Who his father was? True, _Aragorn_ trusted her, but Aragorn was not _his_ king yet, and one man's judgement was just as faulty as the rest, no matter who his father or grandfather or great-grandfather was.

"I have known your father for a long time, Boromir; do not fret. For goodness sakes, I was there at the Name-Giving ceremony," she said, and a dark shadow flew over her face for a moment, but it was gone before Boromir could do anything but notice its presence.

"Aine. Thank goodness you're awake...and _cooking_?" Aragorn said, walking up from behind Boromir and sitting down happily, peering at the pan with a raised eyebrow.

Aine. Not Gondorian, definitely... and the name didn't sound Rohirric at all. He searched for the pointed ears, but the tips were round; and besides, she had made too much noise the night before when she was creeping up on them to be an elf..

So elf was out then.

"Yes, Estel, I'm cooking. I thought you all might be hungry-- I'm sure there wasn't much time to eat after... after... well, I'm sure yesterday must have been taxing, and lembas gets boring after a while, especially to hobbit stomachs, eh, Merry?" she said, smiling at something behind him, and a sudden blur ran past him and attached itself to her, with another one close behind. She laughed a surprisingly deep laugh for a woman as the hobbits sat down next to her, careful of the fire.

"Mira, why are you here?"

"Mira, when did you get here?"

"What are you doing? Are those _eggs? _How did you get them here without breaking?"

"Why haven't you visited the Shire in so long, everyone missed you at Gandalf's last visit!"

At the mention of Gandalf, the two hobbits went silent, and Mira...Aine... whoever she was... gave them a smile.

"Forgive me... I had other things to take care of, my friends. I believe I have some information that may interest you, however..." she said with a grin, proceeding to go into some long, no doubt convoluted story about doings in the Shire, and smiling at the cheer that had returned to his small friends, Boromir retreated into his mind.

So the woman was known by the hobbits as well... an interesting development, to be sure... and she traveled with Gandalf. No wonder she had seemed so... horrified last night when she had heard about his passing.

A great sympathy flashed through Boromir, and he sighed, turning his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"--and Fatty Bolger's sister's gotten _quite_ lovely, if you can believe that. Oh, good morning Sam, glad to see you're up. Do wake up Frodo, I understand that he is injured-- we should eat quickly and get him to Lothlorien as soon as possible," she said to the drowsy hobbit that had stumbled into Merry. He stared up at her with wide eyes, barely able to mutter a "Yes, ma'am," before he woke up the last hobbit (inadvertently waking up Gimli as well).

"Here. The food is ready. All of you, eat while I tend to Frodo. I will be able to take care of him temporarily, but we should get him to see a healer as soon as we enter the Golden Wood. I would take him myself, if I could, but this...this is not my path," she said wearily, rubbing at her eyes with clenched fists, and Boromir suddenly realized that she was probably much younger than he had earlier thought-- twenty-five, he would wager, or less. What was such a young one doing out here?

"You are right," Aragorn said, leaving the company to scarf down the food in the pan. Boromir sighed as he ate from one of the makeshift plates that Sam had procured, not even tasting whatever was in his mouth (although he did pay attention enough to notice that it was quite a bit better than the _lembas _they'd been eating) as he mulled over the events of the past day in his head.

There was so much to think about, and so little time...

* * *

"Mister Frodo... Mister Frodo...Wake _up_, Mister Frodo!"

"Thank you Sam, why don't you go eat with the rest of them. I'll tend to him for now. Frodo, it's time...."

The hobbit awoke with a start, the woman above grinning madly down at him.

"M-m-mira? Is that you? Where am I? Did I... Did I..." he scrambled to find the ring around his neck, sighing with relief as his hands closed around the band.

"No Frodo, you're not dead. Now, we will be going to Lothlorien very soon, but I would like to talk to you for a moment before we begin our journey. I would like to ask you a question, and I want you to answer me truthfully, no matter who has told you not to, do you understand?"

Frodo nodded, and Mira went on.

"When you offered to take that... that... that _thing _around your neck into Mordor, were you, by any chance, persuaded by anyone? Anyone at all?" She bit her lip.

"I know this may be an odd question, Frodo, but please, rack your brain for the memory. I _must _know," she said pressingly, and Frodo sat up, wide-eyed as he processed her request.

"Not anyone that I know of. There was just this... feeling. Like a great weight had been pressed onto me-- and I just knew what I had to do, that I had to take the Ring. That it was the only thing _to _do. It was as if I was... possessed, I felt so little like myself," Frodo said unhappily, and her face darkened as she mumbled words under her breath.

"I was afraid you would say that," she muttered, and Frodo tilted his head to the side, suddenly aware of the fact that Aragorn was also there, smiling encouragingly at him.

"Aine, go get your things ready. We leave in a half-hour's time. I assume you will want to go with us?" Aragorn said, and she nodded, running into the forest at an almost inhuman speed. Frodo gave him a questioning look, but the man simply watched her depart with a shake of his head.

"I know not why she asked you such a strange question, my friend, nor why she was so concerned about your injuries; have we not all ready discerned that there was no poison in your wound? But whatever the reason may be, Frodo, rest assured that it is a good one-- Aine is not one to speak idly about such matters," Aragorn said, in that sage, mystical way that always made Frodo feel as if he were speaking to someone wise and aged(which, he supposed, living with elves, one would pick that up).

Frodo nodded, at peace for a moment before he froze.

"Who is Aine?"

"She was here, just now! You can't have forgot-- ahh. She has many names, Frodo."

"Just like Gandalf," Frodo said quietly, and Aragorn winced, thinking back on the poor, heartbroken child he had seen peek out from under the tough exterior the night before; the unbearable grief that he had not seen from anyone since Mithrandir thought she had been dead.

"Yes," he said, looking back out to the trees. "Just like Gandalf."

* * *

A/N Two: Ok, so I'm giving you people hot-off-the-press content, so it would be uberly fantastically wonderful if I could get someone to beta this for me, but I don't want to ask anyone unless they all ready like the story, so if you're interested, please do contact me, my e-mail is on my profile or just leave a note on the review and I'll get back to you ASAP. On that note, reviewing would be lovely!

Thanks, -Liv


	3. La Gloire de mon père

A/N: So I'm a liar. These next two scenes are going to be MOVIE BASED, with LOTS of exact scene dialogue, because it'll fit better without me screwing it up super bad. Please, guys, review, it would make my day, and I really could use it. CC, like it or not, tell me, I'd love to hear feedback!

Disclaimer: The hobbits went to Isengard, sadly without a pony; I do not own Lord of the Rings, I'm just a poor sad phony. (But I do own this Yankee Doodle parody song)

* * *

The Fellowship walked into the dappled yellow shafts of light that littered the forest floor, stepping carefully as they trudged on in the direction that Aragorn pointed. The ranger and Legolas were in front, with Gimli close behind; following a little afterwards were Boromir and the hobbits, with Aine keeping up the rear, watching out for anything that might be thinking of attacking them from the back. They moved swiftly but uneasily, always aware that any wrong move this time truly could be their last.

Frodo's eyes darted around, agitated, as they walked, and Aragorn gave him a piercing look, but Frodo obviously did not wish to speak about whatever was going through his mind, as he simply shook his head and stepped on with nothing but a heavier gait to show for it.

"Stay close, young hobbits," Gimli said in a low voice, ushering them along. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods... an elf witch of terrible power; all who look upon her, fall under her spell..." Gimli held his axe closer to him, eyes darting about in fear and caution. "and are never seen again."

Frodo swayed for a moment, and Sam panicked, but the Ringbearer stayed him with an easy hand. Gimli shook his head gruffly, unaware of the drama being played out behind him by the two hobbits.

"Well," he said gruffly, "here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."

The proud dwarf spoke too soon, however, because not a moment after the words had left his lips, he was looking straight at the point of an arrow, and suddenly, the entire company was surrounded. Aragorn flipped his head around to check for any excape routes, but it seemed that there was no escape. Legolas and Aine had their bows out (although oddly enough, Aine didn't quite look like Aine anymore).

"That dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," A tall, blonde, elf said arrogantly walking out from among the ranks, and Gimli glared. The elf scanned the company before giving an order that only three of the fellowship understood, and they followed the mysterious and cavalier group of elves into the misty depths of Lorien.

* * *

"_Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion." _The blonde elf said, putting his hand on his chest and bowing his head just enough to be ingratiating.

_"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien." _Legolas replied, biting his tongue to keep from spitting out an insulting retort. Haldir gave a well-hidden look of surprise before turning to the heir of Isildur.

"Aragorn of the Dunedain, you are known to us," he said in Elvish, and Aragorn gave a small bow with that sort of understated dignity that he was known for.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves! Speak words we can all understand!" Gimli said, by this time cold and unnerved by the vast spaces both below and above him, and the Marchwarden gave him a piercing look.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the dark days," The elf said the words with disdain, and before Gimli could retort, another clear voice rang out from the back.

"Ai, and I am sure the dwarves are happy for that, as they have seen far more prosperous days that those who would be so arrogant as to believe themselves above others," Aine said in a remarkably masculine voice, and the entire company froze at the stricken look on Haldir's face.

"That was not so courteous," Aragorn hissed, but she shrugged, giving the tall elf a stony look as he scrutinized her. She drew in a breath, afraid of being found out, but apparently he didn't find what he was looking for, because his gaze was then drawn to the hobbits-- more specifically, to Frodo.

"You bring great evil with you," Haldir said, and Aine was glad to see that he, despite his power-drunk arrogance, understood that the Ring was a power beyond even _his _oh-so-greatness.

"You can go no further," he said quickly and dramatically, and Aine resisted rolling her eyes as he walked away, Aragorn following quickly to try and plead their case. She felt a horrible guilt drop down into her stomach as she heard their low arguing. She knew that if she offered up her own identity, they would be allowed in in a heartbeat, but she just couldn't do that.

If Aragorn asked her to, she would, but not yet. Not if she didn't have to.

Suddenly, a sour looking Haldir came up to the company along with a triumphant but tired Aragorn.

"You will follow me."

* * *

All of the members of the fellowship gazed upon the city of Caras Galadhon in awe. A giant city entwined within the trees, it seemed to glow with a light even Rivendell had not possessed. They climbed up the silver stairs in awe, all but Aine craning their necks to see the glory of the last great elven stronghold (even the elf himself, for he had not seen his own home shine with the light of the Valar for many years past) until finally they reached a delicately wrought platform upon which there were a set of stairs.

A light descended down slowly from the head of the stairs, and the young woman steeled herself for the piercing gazes she knew would come. The company looked in awe at the powerful elven couple that stood at the foot of the stairs, and Galadriel gave Frodo a long, hard look before turning to her husband.

"The enemy knows you have entered here," he said bluntly, but not harshly. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone."

Aine sighed. Was it really necessary to go on and crush the poor hobbit's hearts like that? And indeed; they did look crestfallen; even Pippin looked downward, shuffling his feet.

"There are nine here, and nine there were, set out from Rivendell... but someone is missing; for you are not the same company, neither in spirit nor in body," Celeborn said pointedly at her, and she looked down at the floor.

"Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him," he said, in that horrible, blunt way that he went about business, and Aragorn gave him an uncomfortable look.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow," Galadriel said, face frozen in shock, and Aragorn simply nodded.

"He was taken by a bolt of shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgo--" A sharp cry from behind him interrupted him, and the elf turned around to see Aine collapsed on the ground, crying.

"Your fellow man seems much grieved by the loss of Gandalf," Haldir said sympathetically, and Celeborn sighed, walking down to meet the wet, kneeling girl.

"For all of your supposed brains, Haldir, sometimes you are so very foolish. This is no man," he said, taking off the hood gently and kneeling down to her level, pulling her close as she wept into his tunic. The haughty Marchwarden looked shocked and humbled as he stared at the girl on the floor.

The company simply stared, unsure of what to make of the new development. They were uncomfortable-- horribly, wretchedly uncomfortable, because her grief was so incredibly vast and deep that it made them all feel farcical and altogether stupid, which wasn't really doing them any good.

"My child, words cannot describe the pain and sorrow I feel at Gandalf's passing, for your grandfather has been a friend and councillor to me for many, many years."

"_Grandfather?"_ One of the hobbits said, surprised before they were shushed by one of the others with better manners (most likely Pippin by Sam), and Galadriel turned her attention to the rest of the fellowship.

She spoke to them quietly, and Aine was sure she was filling their heads with lovely inspirational thoughts even right then; but it was as if she could hear nothing. She watched her friends depart with a blank face as the Lord of Lorien gave her a glass of water, pulling her swaying body up with a firm but loving hand.

"Come, _Sell vuin; _you must come outside and we will sing as we did when you were small."

"But I cannot sing, _Hîr vuin, _you know this-- after the attack, I..."

"You can try; for your grandfather, you can try."

* * *

Elvish Glossary

_Mae Govannen- _Well met.

_Govannas vîn gwennen le- _Our Fellowship stands in your debt.

_Sell vuin- _Beloved daughter (T.O.D)

_Hîr vuin- _Beloved Lord (T.O.D)


	4. Death Sentence

A/N: The Sam/Legolas/Pippin dialogue is directly from the movie. I take no credit. Also, any type of modern day colloquialisms in Aine's lines are _intentional, _I repeat, **_INTENTIONAL_**, so yeah, I just gave a bit of the plot away there, but just thought I should let you know so I don't get any reviews about how there shouldn't be stuff like that in M.E. As always, please read and review!-Livvy

Disclaimer: I have no heart to make up any songs-- so I own nothing.

* * *

The fellowship was in poor spirits that night as they laid camp beneath the great mallorn trees, each member reflecting on everything that had happened since they had entered the caves of Moria; some even farther back.

A montage of eerily beautiful voices filled the air, and Legolas raised his head to the trees.

"A lament to Gandalf," he said sadly, and Pippin stuck his head out of the tent, his interested and curious visage a far cry from the two sullen and melancholy Gondorians that infected the very air with their gloom.

"What do they say about him?" Pippin asked, but the elf simply looked down, the hollows of his cheekbones highlighted in the silvery moonlight.

"I have not the heart to tell you... for me the grief is still too near," he said blankly, and Pippin withdrew his head back into the hobbit section of the tent.

"Bet they don't say anything about his fireworks," Sam said, making his bed and eyeing the apathetic Frodo, "There should be a verse about them."

He stood up suddenly, seemingly overcome with emotion.

"_The finest rockets ever seen,_

_They burst in stars of blue and green._

_Whereafter thunder, silver showers,_

_came falling like a rain of flowers."_

The last few words were rushed, and he shook his head as he sat back down.

"Aw, that doesn't do him near justice," Sam said, banging his head lightly against an oversized tree root and running a hand through his hair.

"Nonsense. Grandfather would have loved it," Aine said firmly, stepping into the tent, and Sam blushed slightly.

"Aine, I was not aware that you were on such good terms with the Lord and Lady," Aragorn cut in, eyes flashing dangerously at her, and she gave him an equally formidable look, knowing exactly what he was getting at.

"The Lord only, Estel, and I did not last leave Lothlorien in the best of circumstances," she said, letting her glare dissapate as her eyes drifted over to the thoughtful Boromir that was sitting out on an overgrown stump; she jerked her head in his direction subtly, and apparently the Ranger got the hint, because he walked over and the two began talking in hushed voices.

She eyed the two for a moment before turning back to the rest of the company, where the elf was eyeing her warily. She sat down on Aragorn's recently vacated bed and drank from a hip flask thirstily, eyebrow up.

"Is there something you wish to ask me, elfling?" She asked calmly, and the elf straightened, looking uncomfortable.

"I wish to apologize for my behavior last night. It was... unacceptable, and I ask for your forgiveness," he said stiffly, and she gave him a mildly surprised look.

"It is given," she said with a nod, before turning to look on the hobbits.

"You should sleep, all of you. You do not know what tomorrow will bring in this world of uncertainty, and when you have nothing, it is at least best to have a good night's sleep," she said, swiftly getting up and leaving in a rustle of well-made clothing and black hair.

"The lass' right. Who knows what'll happen to us in this blasted forest anyway-- best to get a few winks in," Gimli said after a few moments, his booming voice cutting through the silence, and as if to affirm his comment, the moon moved behind the trees, effectively reducing the light enough to allow the Company to fall into a restless sleep.

* * *

"--_not going to stay here and listen to this!"_

_"--ran after-- already gone--"_

Boromir's eyes opened groggily, awakened by the hushed, angry voices darting through the air outside of the tent. He slipped out of his bedroll as noiselessly as possible, creeping up to where he thought the sound was coming from. Sure enough, he saw two shadows in the moonlight, and he listened closer.

"Well, I told everyone I was leaving, it isn't my fault you chose not to listen!" the voice came through with startling clarity, and Boromir was mildly surprised that he was able to identify the voice as the woman who had joined them two days before.

"You've told us hundreds of times before that you were leaving, why should we have paid attention this time?"

"Be_cause_, Haldir, your stupid, oh-so-wise elf lords sent my grandfather on a goddamn suicide mission and I wanted to go find him!"

"Oh, and I suppose going and getting yourself captured was all part of your brilliant plan as well?"

There was a great smack that resounded through the trees, so loud that Boromir was amazed that the rest didn't wake up on the spot... although Legolas did seem to be a little fidgety, now that he was looking at him.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that... that was... I didn't mean it like that," the elf offered feebly, and Boromir could practically feel the anger rolling off of the woman.

"Like. _Hell._ You. Didn't." Boromir flinched at the deadly tone, and he was pretty sure he saw the elf do the same out of the corner of his eye.

There was the sound of crunching leaves and swishing fabric; a shadow flew across the small opening that Boromir was peering through. He stepped back quickly, sliding into his bedroll so as not to get caught and feeling rather childish the whole time.

Boromir stared up at the canvas ceiling, sighing as he tried to fall back asleep.

_So many secrets you had, Gandalf_, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes.


	5. Fugitive

A/N: So this is actually the chapter that started it all, but I had to do some major edits-- have you guys noticed a certain interesting tidbit about each chapter? I ain't gonna say what it is, but a cookie for you if you guessed right! It means you're paying attention!

R&R, lovvies.-Liv

Disclaimer: Mr. Tolkien, he's your man, I'm just a poor obsessed fan. :)

* * *

Aine stared at the canopy above her, tired. She had fought with Haldir last night—it was stupid really, just him being his usual insensitive self, and she had taken the bait. As she always did.

The worst part was that he was right—getting caught by the Wild Men _hadn't _been part of the plan at all, and had probably cost him his life. She fingered the newly cut ends of her hair resignedly, pushing thoughts of her grandfather away.

"You cut your hair."

She didn't turn to look at the speaker—she knew who it was.

"It is a custom of mourning, where I come from."

"I am sorry," he said sincerely, and she shrugged. She had long gotten over being angry with Haldir—what he had said was true.

"Tis not your fault, _mellon_. He fought for us to the death," she said, jumping out of the tree branch and into his arms. He carried her towards where the hobbits were staying, and she laid her head against the space between his chest and his shoulder.

"It's so strange, you know. I know... I know he is dead. It would be childish of me to think he is not so. Yet—I find that I cannot grieve," she said, rubbing her temples, and he shushed her with a small smile.

"Not all is always as it seems. Have you perhaps thought about talking to Lady Galadriel?" he asked, and she snorted as she wiggled as a request to be put down.

"That's your stock answer to everything, isn't it? Do you remember what happened the last time I talked to the White Lady? It was a complete and utter failure, and ended with the Lord practically falling over himself laughing at the manner in which I left! Oh believe me, I shall _not_ be having a repeat of that situation, no thank _you_," she said with a laugh, and he laughed as well.

"All right, well then what do you propose? You can't keep it inside, you'll only end up going insane, or fading," he said as they reached the camp.

"I don't know-- humans don't fade, remember? I'll probably end up going to the practice fields, helping out the hobbits—those things kept me together before. I don't know, I'll figure out a way," she said, bursting into the tent with a grin. The four hobbits were playing cards—something akin to Go Fish, if Aine remembered it correctly.

"Hello Hobbits," she said cheerily, and they all smiled—well, all except for Frodo. He never really smiled anymore.

"Hello Mira! I like what you've done with your hair!" Pippin said cheerily, and she grinned, mussing up his hair and smiling back at the rigid, imposing form of the March Warden that darkened theentrance.

"I believe my work here is done, Aine. I'll see you for dinner, perhaps?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. She shook her head.

"Not tonight, Haldir. How about breakfast tomorrow?" she said, and he nodded with a bow that said they would talk later.

"Have a pleasant day, my young friends. Please, the kitchens and gardens are yours," he said with another bow, closing the door curtly. She and sat down next to them, popping a grape into her mouth and tearing off some bread and cheese. They sat in companionable silence for quite a while, with the hobbits playing cards and smoking their respective pipes and Aine chewing contentedly.

"Mira, are you and Haldir friends?" Pippin asked during a quick snack break after one of the more tedious rounds, and she shrugged, gulping down a mouthful of the clear, sweet water.

"I grew up here. Rumil was always busy impressing elleths, even when we were little. Orophin... well, he was too busy being Orophin, and so Haldir and I were just stuck on the practice field. We played together all the time. He taught me everything I know about combat," Aine said proudly.

"So if you learned at the same time, from the same people, does that mean you two are at the same level?" Sam asked, and Aine gave him one of her famous deep laughs.

"Oh no, not even _close_, my dear Master Gamgee, no matter how much I would wish that to be true. If Haldir truly wanted to, he could kill me in less time than it takes Legolas to place an arrow on a string," she said, shaking her head from side to side. Frodo gave an involuntary shiver, and she placed a hand on his shoulder from her odd perch on the seat beside Pippin.

"I wouldn't worry about him, Frodo. Haldir is like my brother. He is a kind and loyal man, and admires you all greatly for what you have done and what you are doing," she said.

Merry gave her an openly doubtful look.

"Are you mad? What _are_ we doing? I mean, I know how great a burden Frodo carries, but it seems like all me and Pippin are's a hindrance," he said darkly, a scowl on his ruddy, good-natured face, and she laughed again.

As condescending as it sounded, the dear things were such children! They did not see how impossible what they were doing actually was.

"You are half of our height yet you have the strength of our hearts and our minds, if not more. You defy the odds to get to your friends and do things with honour or not at all. You are brave, my little friends, because you see not the impossibility of the tasks you take on; and then you surprise us all by doing them better then we could do them ourselves," she said with a grin, taking another bite out an apple, and they blushed.

She laughed. They were such a gas sometimes.

"Well, I'd best be off, I've got plenty of work to do. Frodo, why don't you come with me—I think there's something you'd be interested in seeing," she said, lifting herself off the ground and heading towards the makeshift door. The hobbits replied with a rousing chorus of goodbyes to both her and Frodo, who followed not far behind. He gave her a hollow smile as he let the fabric fall behind him.

"What is it that you thought I'd be interested in?" he asked after they'd walked for a bit, looking at her with piercing eyes, and she laughed.

"You caught me. I thought you'd like to get away from them for a little while. The gardens are a good place to sit and just think for a little while, Frodo, and he can't get you here. Not in the gardens, anyway, and especially not on the Bench of the White Lady. Do you know how long..." Aine took in a deep breath.

"Do you know how long it took my grandfather and I to bespell that bench?" she asked. Frodo waited for the rest of the sentence, but it never came, and they simply walked along the green path in silence.

* * *

Frodo noticed with some sense of relief that when Aine walked, she made noise. He liked that—it let him know that she was human. Haldir was all right and so were his brothers, along with the White Lady, her husband, and a few of the court members—but he couldn't help feeling that some of them were out to get him, and it didn't help his paranoia when he couldn't hear anyone until it was too late.

They walked in the open green for a while among the talans before they got to the gardens; once they were there, he immediately saw what she meant by a place to think. There was no hinting of war, no taint of Orc stench on the air, no whisper of the ring in his ear. It was peace moulded and shaped into a material form.

"I told you you'd like it," Aine said with a soft smile, holding out her hand for the astounded hobbit. He grasped it, following her to wherever she was taking her. They stopped in front of a bench, and he broke out into a smile, a true one. He looked up at her for permission, and she nodded.

"Go ahead, sit on it. It's rather comfortable, I promise," she said, and he nodded in return.

"It was the first thing me and grandfather made together. Ugh, he spent _ages_ on the thing, be- spelling it and such. That was back before he'd done his Staff-Search, see, so he had to do the framework by hand. It was a mess, really, I had to do most of the setting up of the spells and then he cast them," she said, shaking her head. Frodo could almost feel the depression settling back on his friend, and he hastily changed the subject.

"Why did you cut your hair?

"It is a mourning custom, where I come from."

"Is that why Lord Celeborn cut his as well?"

Aine stayed silent for a moment; obviously Frodo had presented a new piece of information. She gave him an odd look.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Frodo couldn't really remember how much longer they talked for before she left him to his thoughts; he smiled as she walked away. Perhaps he could find peace here. He looked down at the bench, at the markings which had been painstakingly engraved along the marble surface, and he curled a hand over the bench's cool edge.

"Thank you, Gandalf," he whispered. "I have some peace at last."


End file.
